


hellboy

by aquariuslester (geminidaniel)



Category: Lil Peep (Musician) RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Cigarettes, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Comfort/Angst, Coming Out, Confessions, Drug Addiction, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Good Friend Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, No Smut, Sad Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Sad with a Happy Ending, Smoking, Sobriety, Songfic, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Supportive Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Tags Contain Spoilers, Third Wheel Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), cashier george, deadbeat dream, smoker dream, supportive george
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geminidaniel/pseuds/aquariuslester
Summary: "call me dream."his calloused hands grabbed the boxes and put them in his sweatshirt pocket. their eyes met as he walked out, opening the door and letting the cold breeze in. it grazed george’s cheek and he smiled."what kind of a name is that?" he whispered.ORdeadbeat dream learns to love himself again with the help of a bubbly, quick-talking cashier and an old childhood friend.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. runaway

**Author's Note:**

> chapter titles are song names, i'll list them in the summaries for every chapter.
> 
> title: hellboy by lil peep
> 
> this started out as a vent about my personal sobriety, but at this point it's taken a mind of its own, so enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> runaway by lil peep

a cool wind blew through the air, blowing the smoke from dream's cigarette into his face. the flaky ash irritated his eyes, leaving them watering and stinging in the evening light.

he stared into the faint red glow emanating from the minuscule embers of tobacco. he watched idly as the remaining white part of the smoking object slowly whittled away into a brown stump. the smoke moved upward in a thin, smooth trail of gray velvet. the wind blew the soft channel to the right, slowly but surely disintegrating the stream after it reached a certain point. the smoke kept coming, and the wind kept blowing it away. the sky was orange, and it kept getting darker. dream wished time didn't move so fast. he blinked and then he was under the glow of his porch lights. the sky was as dark as the smoke that tapered off from the ever-burning stick between his fingers, but the darkness was thicker, more opaque. the wind was cold. dream hated the cold.

"bro, you need to stop smoking those. you've been outside for hours."

dream jumped at the familiar voice intruding on his world, his gentle microcosm surrounded by a thick haze. the fiberglass remnant of the last bit of his happiness fell to the ground next to his chair, and he stood up to step on it. the dirt shifted under the outsole of his shoe and he heard a sizzle as the never-ending light was finally extinguished beneath him.

"don't tell me what to do." dream hardly noticed how dry his throat was, and his retort sounded as rough as the asphalt sapnap was standing on. he swallowed painfully and coughed a few times before staring at his friend. _if he could even call him that._

"you keep forgetting _i'm_ the one who has the lease on this house. maybe if you stopped inhaling that crap, you could afford to pay your half of the rent."

dream groaned and rolled his eyes, instinctively reaching for the small cardboard box in his front pocket. he opened the container hastily, but his fingers grabbed at nothing.

_it was empty._

"see? you can't even talk to me without smoking. get out of the yard, i can smell the smoke from the other side of the fucking house."

"suck my dick," dream responded, pulling the box out of his jeans and throwing it on the ground, walking over to his car parked in the driveway. "i don't owe you anything. fuck you."

he slammed the car door harshly before driving off, not even bothering to put on his seatbelt. he watched sapnap's static figure slowly leave his vision through the rear-view mirror.

his mouth was tinted with the flavor of smoke and it felt like he couldn't get rid of the taste. as if the smoke wasn't enough, the bitter taste of his final words to sapnap coated his mouth, slicking down the roof of his mouth into his throat.

he knows he'll regret saying what he did when he was more coherent, but what he hated the most was thinking about the future. too much was uncertain. you could say anything and it would all be equally possible. he could crash his car. he could come home safe. he could rise off the ground right now with his car and go floating into the stratosphere. he had no way of proving or disproving what would happen in the future. that was the scary part.

something in his chest tightened as he continued thinking about what could happen. anything could happen.

he reached for the glovebox, praying there was a cigarette buried in the darkness of the chasm.

nothing.

he sighed deeply, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel in blind anger. the car swerved slightly, threatening to run off the edge of the silent street. how long had he been driving? the sky seemed darker than before. it felt like the air was too thick to breathe.

he tried not to think about the fact that it felt hard to push oxygen in and out of his lungs. as much as he hated it, the air felt rough and unnatural in his throat. he didn’t want to acknowledge that he felt like a fish out of water when smoke wasn't in his lungs.

he refused to let sapnap be right about something.


	2. only acting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> only acting by kero kero bonito

the air still felt artificial and stifling in dream’s lungs as he pulled into the parking lot of the run-down convenience store. dream couldn’t explain it, but the outward appearance always felt oddly fitting to his situation. the walls of the store were chipped and dusty, the overhead lights dim and flickering in the darkness. graffiti was scratched into the plastic windows, and the old tint on the clear panels was patchy and fading.

it looked like shit.

but the interior was different. iridescent lights shone overhead, beaming down onto the white tiled floor and radiating back up to the ceiling. shelves were neatly labeled, the colors of the cheap products taking on a different hue in the brightness. the lights made dream’s eyes hurt, but he noticed he sorely missed the feeling when he sat in the dimness of his car.

everything was always so dark around him. the store was his only dose of color.

he stepped into the store, relishing in the glistening strips of light above him as the metallic sound of a bell ringing signaled his entrance to the man at the counter.

dream actually smiled. the store was empty.

he took his usual route around the store, walking down the electronics aisle, looking at the chargers and cables he couldn’t buy. he looked at the lit up cases of beverages, their colors imprinting themselves into his vision. bright red, shimmering blue, deep brown. his steps made soft sounds on the cheap flooring as he walked parallel to the coolers of drinks, turning left at the corner and staring at the slushie machine.

he never bought one, but he was always mesmerized by the flavors and their logos.

his hands dropped into his pockets as he walked around the corner again, walking to the clerk as he took a last glance at the other aisles, overfilled with bright bags of chips and candy.

everything felt very bright tonight.

he flashed a smile at the man at the register, but dropped it almost instantly. he noticed the clerk scrunch his nose at him. he always got that response. 

he must smell like smoke again. he couldn’t tell nowadays.

"i noticed you were looking around the store." the man’s voice was more timid than dream expected, his eyebrows raising slightly. 

dream didn’t answer, but rather responded with a question of his own. "are you new here?"

the cashier pressed his palms into the plastic counter and stood on his tiptoes, making direct eye contact with dream’s piercing green eyes.

"i didn’t know this was a game of 20 questions."

dream was surprised at the other man’s boldness. interestingly, he was hard to read. he tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth as he scanned the smaller man’s face, looking for any readily accessible emotion. he failed to find anything except a secure smugness, like he knew what he was doing.

"you’re new."

"and you’re a smoker. anything else we need to tell each other that we both already know?"

"you’re good." dream was taken aback by the confidence and sharpness with which the mystery man spoke.

"i try. you’re here for cigarettes."

dream only nodded, his eyes squinting as he continued to try to study the other man’s face. his eyes probed his fair skin, traveling down to his chest where he found his nametag.

"i am, george."

the other man flinched slightly at the use of his name before he registered that it was on clear display. a weakness in his cockiness, albeit small.

"why did you call me that?"

"that’s your name, isn’t it?"

there was a pause in the air, and dream almost found it harder to breathe in the tension than the oxygen around them. it felt like smoke in his chest, but the taste was undetectable. he felt like he could get addicted to that feeling quicker than he was addicted to nicotine. the rush felt like an addiction.

he would know, he supposes.

"i want the green ones."

george stood in stunned silence for another moment before snapping back into the present. he turned his back to dream and looked at the rack behind him.

which rack was the green one again?

he stood still, straining his eyes to focus on the colors before him, praying the man behind him wasn’t laughing at his struggle.

it was a fifty-fifty split of being right or wrong. he reached for the higher rack, stretching his arm up to reach the laminated box.

he turned around to see the man looking at him, confused.

"i said green. those are yellow."

george’s cheeks glowed red as he gripped the box in his hand, nearly crushing the delicate cardboard packaging. his eyes scanned the ground, the freshly-cleaned counter; anything but the customer in front of him.

he was pulsing with embarrassment. he didn’t know how to respond. it was a fifty-fifty chance, and he just happened to pick the wrong one. in front of this man that george was strangely enticed by.

he blinked a few times before turning back around, tossing the incorrect box on the ground and reaching for the other rack. he’d have to memorize it for next time.

turning back around, george forced himself to look into the stranger’s eyes. where he expected humiliation, he was met with a soft understanding. it felt like a mirage, since the man’s tone and appearance felt like the antithesis of what he equated to a gentle kindness.

"you’re colorblind."

the words would usually make george’s stomach hit the floor, but the way the taller man said it felt safe. again, it felt understanding. it wasn’t sneering, it wasn’t judgemental. it wasn’t like anything george had ever heard before. whatever it was, it wasn’t malicious.

"y-yeah." an uncertain pause. "sorry for the mix-up. i-is that all you wanted?"

another silence permeated and a lump began forming in george’s throat. he desperately wanted to move on from the subject. his feet shuffled under the counter, and he bit the inside of his cheeks until he tasted blood.

"yeah, that’s it. except i want another two boxes of the green. please."

george nodded and grabbed another two boxes. he grabbed the hand-held scanner and shakily scanned the box three times.

"are you working tomorrow?"

the question caught george off-guard. he looked up as he grabbed the man’s receipt. he stacked the cigarette packages nicely and laid the receipt on top of them, sliding them over to him.

"yeah, i have midnight shift again. why?"

it was dream’s turn to look uncomfortable. "well, i get paid tomorrow. i was wondering if you wanted to go grab some breakfast or something. i-i mean, if you… want to."

george smiled sheepishly. "you’re asking me on a date? i don’t even know your name, mystery man."

dream blushed at the insinuation, but declined to refute it.

"call me dream."

his calloused hands grabbed the boxes and put them in his sweatshirt pocket. their eyes met as he walked out, opening the door and letting the cold breeze in. it grazed george’s cheek and he smiled.

"what kind of a name is that?" he whispered.

"i’ll see you tomorrow."

dream left as quickly as he came, the bell chiming again as the door closed. a belated gust of outdoor wind pressed against george’s chest, smoothing his apron down against his body.

he watched the car in the lot flash its lights before it sped off into the barren road.


	3. magnolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> magnolia by suicideboys

when dream pulled into the driveway, his chair had been moved under the awning, and the lights in the house were all extinguished. sapnap must have gone to sleep.

his crumpled box was still on the ground, but the wind had pushed it back into the textured wall while he was gone. he got out of his car and locked it, walking over and picking up the trash he had left.

a pang of guilt shot through his chest as he recalled the scene that led him to leave in the first place. he looked over to the doors, the gate open slightly. sapnap still cared.

it tore dream up that he didn’t show the same affection. that he couldn’t show the same affection. something about him had changed. 

sapnap had been his friend since the first grade, when nick walked up to clay on the playground and asked what his name was. clay didn’t know what to think of the interaction at first. he stared at the other boy before hesitantly responding. he said his name in a hushed whisper, like he was ashamed of it. the other boy didn’t seem to notice.

"cool. i’m nick. wanna be friends?"

the simplicity of childhood comradery brought them together. clay was never one to talk, but nick sat right next to him in every class, talking for him until he realized it was safe to use his own voice.

nick was right next to him when he got his first girlfriend, and he was right behind him when they broke it off. he was at his house when he had a stomach bug, and he was watching him from across the field at their first football game as varsity seniors.

it didn’t feel fair to clay that he couldn’t be what nick was to him. he was right in what he said before clay stormed off, as much as he hated to admit it.

nick was always right about everything. he was too self-absorbed. he was a deadbeat, a shell of a man that only interacted with society to get the money he needed to fuel his addiction. just like that summer day in first grade: nick, sapnap, knew about clay’s, dream’s, potential. it was like he could see right through him. he saw what his weaknesses were, and tried to be there to counteract his faults. he saw what he excelled at and was sure to step away enough to make sure those parts were seen as well.

sapnap was paying the rent, buying the food, and cleaning the house while dream was slacking off at work, smoking himself broke, and neglecting himself. nick was soothing the fire, while clay was only adding more sticks.

if dream knew all of this was true, why couldn’t he stop?

\---

just like dream promised, he was in the parking lot of the shop at around one in the morning. the only sounds coming from the outside were the dull buzzing of the old bulbs lighting up the storefront and the occasional car on concrete on the street next to him.

his window was open, letting the cold air nip at his knuckles while another cigarette was in the grasp of his fingers. the ashes were blowing into the open wind, a few particles clinging to the dull, smooth outside of dream’s car.

he was staring into the darkness of the sky as he brought the brown tip to his lips. he didn’t feel anything when he smoked anymore. he used to cough and gag at the thickness of the chemicals in his mouth. he used to have to drink while he smoked, to neutralize the violent taste of burnt leaves and paper with the sharp sting of fermented grain.

it wasn’t like that anymore. he didn’t even notice a taste when he inhaled the smoke, didn’t notice a difference in air viscosity when the pollutants filled his lungs. he wondered if they still counted as pollutants if they were a regular part of his routine, despite his body’s rejection of it.

he didn’t want to barge into the store too unannounced to see george. it would be weird if he was there at the very beginning of his shift until he got off. so he was sitting in his car, blowing smoke and ash into the atmosphere absently.

he glanced over at the time on his dashboard. 1:45. when had forty-five minutes passed?

he sat up in his seat before flicking the remainder of the cigarette out onto the black asphalt and stepping out of his car.

the bell on the door rang like it always did, and the lights were as bright as they always were. george’s eyes twinkled under the iridescence. the gel in his hair shone gently under the same light. his light-colored work apron seemed infinitely brighter. they were both the only ones in the store, like the night before.

he looked ethereal.

"well hello," george said softly, leaning his elbows on the scratched counter. his head was in his hands as they cupped his chin, and dream found it hard to look away from the light arch in his back that came with the position he put himself in. frankly, he found it hard to look away from george at all.

"hey," was all dream could manage, his eyes glazing over. he was feeling something under that cheap roof and those plastic lights, something that made his stomach turn in anxious anticipation.

whatever the feeling was, he didn’t like it. he didn’t like feeling anything. especially not something that made him feel like this.

whatever _this_ was.

he pulled a slender cylindrical object from his front pocket and brought it to his lips. the miniature lighter was right next to the cigarette box, and he ran his thumb over the cheap decal before sparking a flame.

"you can’t smoke in here." george looked almost amused at having to even state a rule that seemed so uniform and universal. he crossed his arms over his chest while he leaned against the back wall.

dream rolled his eyes. the cigarette was lit, regardless. he walked over to the counter and took a hit, blowing the smoke out in george’s face.

"who said? no one’s here except for us."

george’s nose scrunched as he had no choice but to inhale the smoke. he coughed harshly after breathing in and reached for his bottle of water. as he gulped down his water, dream chuckled to himself.

"how are we supposed to be friends if you’re so sensitive to smoke?" his tone was light and joking, but he couldn’t take his mind off the sheer difference between the two.

george scoffed as he recovered, putting his plastic bottle back under the counter. "and who said we would be friends?"

"well i’m taking you for breakfast."

"that certainly doesn’t seem like something _just a friend_ would do."

dream nearly dropped his cigarette on the tile. george’s cheeks were stained with a hint of red as he murmured the last sentence.

"what are you implying?"

"what are you implying? you’re the one staring at me whenever i’m in front of you. you may be smooth, but you’re not slick."

the observation caught dream off-guard. george was always so quick with his comebacks, like he knew what dream was going to say at any given time.

he reacted by looking away and taking another inhale from his cigarette. specks of black ash drifted down to the white tile flooring.

george stretched his arms and pulled his apron off, folding it nicely before putting it somewhere in the back.

"my shift is pretty much over. someone’s coming right now to take over. do you wanna go get something now?"

as he spoke, the bell rang behind them both.

"hey george," the voice said. it was a woman’s voice. "who’s that? never thought you would be into the smoker type."

she said everything so nonchalantly, simply remarking on the situation while she dug around in the back for her apron. she finally found it and stared at the two while she tied it in the back.

"he- i- we--" george stuttered, arms gesturing between him and dream uselessly. "w-we-- n-no, i’m just--"

dream chuckled and put the cigarette between his lips as he put his hand between george’s shoulder blades, leading him to the door. the cold dawn wind blew through them both as dream led him to his car.

george got in quickly, buckling his seatbelt without hesitation. his eyes were transfixed on his lap.

"i-i’m sorry. a-about what happened over there. there’s something i should tell you. y’know, before we become friends or whatever."

he heard dream’s seatbelt click to his left and out of the corner of his eye he saw his hand start the car. the silence was scaring him.

he took a deep breath of stale, bitter air. "i’m gay."

he was scared to look up at dream, fearing he’d tainted whatever they had before it even began.

"that’s fine. why did you tell me? did you think that would make me respect you any less?"

george stared up at him, transfixed on the trail of smoke traveling from dream’s lips out of the window into the dark blanket of the night.

"well, k-kinda, if i’m being honest."

another laugh from dream. he backed out of the parking space, putting his arm around george’s seat to get a better view.

"what do i look like to you? i’m an addict and a deadbeat. the worst thing i could possibly do is judge someone over something they can’t change about themselves. what we have in common is that society doesn’t understand us. us outcasts have to stay together."

he took a drag of his cigarette before tossing it out of the window, pulling into the road. george’s eyes were hazy, their previous sparkle steeped in a fog of wonder and confusion.

he blew the smoke out of the left side of his mouth, the wind picking it up and taking it away in a single movement that george's eyes couldn't capture through the tears that had formed in his eyes.

"so what do you want to eat?"


	4. alien boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alien boy by oliver tree

"clay?"

"hm?"

"did you clean?"

"oh, yeah. just vacuumed a little while you were gone. i didn’t finish fully, do you want me to do the rest right now? i know you just got back from work."

sapnap’s eyebrows were furrowed with confusion. his eyes scanned the sparse living room through the doorway. the carpet was white and uncluttered. dream usually left his clothes everywhere and left the remainder of the carpet coated with ash, since he smoked inside when sapnap was gone for work.

the glass table in front of the couch had just been wiped off, since sapnap could actually see through it onto the carpet beneath it.

"i can finish cleaning while you change," dream repeated, getting off of his bed and stretching as he stepped out into the doorway to the living room.

the man in front of him looked stunned, as if dream had just said something insane. to be fair, he kind of did.

"y-you’re _volunteering_ to clean?"

dream flashed a smile and nodded, running his fingers through his sand-colored hair. it looked like he had just showered.

"what’s up with you? shouldn’t you be, like, cussing me out for interrupting your hours-long smoking breaks or something? or, like, leaving your clothes everywhere? you’ve really gone crazy if you’re starting to treat me with respect."

the taller man chuckled. "do you _want_ me to be like that to you? i can, if you want."

sapnap cracked a smile and shook his head. "you're right. i don't. let me change, then i wanna talk about this little behavioral change you're having."

he walked off into his room, still glancing around at the unfamiliar cleanliness of the home. dream walked over to the couch and sat down. his phone buzzed with a message from george.

after they got breakfast together, they started talking significantly more. they exchanged phone numbers and dream would come to the store to talk to george while he was working. there weren't many customers besides dream during the night, meaning they had a few hours to talk alone.

the lights in the store had always held a certain emotional importance to dream. when nothing else was there in his life, he would stumble into those lights and get enveloped in everything they represented. he would vividly remember nights where he didn't know who he was, who was there for him, where he could be on this earth. but somehow, he was always brought back to those lights.

as he began smoking more, he found himself at that store more times than he could count. he had begun to memorize the cracks and uneven humps in the street on the way there. he walked in a certain pattern, always putting his left foot out before his right. it used to take him fifteen minutes to walk there, but soon, he started moving faster and faster, until he could be there in five minutes as he stumbled out of his room, into the dark street.

even his inebriated brain could point to the business at all times.

now, the lights meant something different. not that they didn't still signify his crippling addiction, but there was almost something... hopeful about them now. the only thing they represented before george was digging himself into a deeper hole, the shovel a part of his hands, connected at his palms that he couldn't rid himself of. now, he felt like he was moving towards something new. something that probably wouldn't kill him nearly as fast.

'wyd rn'

he smiled at the message in his lap. george just felt like a breath of fresh air, or at least a breath that didn't feel unnatural in his lungs. he hated to admit it, but he was growing fond of that brunette cashier.

when they talked, it felt like there was something different laced in their interactions. george's tone was sweeter, his eye contact lingered. dream's tongue tasted less like tobacco and more like the sweet smell of george's cologne. somewhere along the way, george had convinced him to not smoke in the store when he was working. dream accredited it to something about george's eyes; they had a special sparkle in the neon bulbs as they looked up into dream's face. the glistening in the dark orbs reminded him of the stars he had become so familiar with when he sat outside at night.

'i'm at home. sap just got off work'

'are u free'

'maybe in a little bit i'll let u know'

he closed their conversation and tucked his phone in his back pocket as sapnap walked out in sweats and a t-shirt. he sat down on the recliner facing dream. his eyes hesitantly met dream's, as if he was unsure if he was even looking at someone he knew.

like dream was a stranger now.

"clay, what's this all about?" his tone was abrupt and to the point. "you're acting hella weird. i'm getting concerned for you, man."

dream was caught off-guard.

"why do you sound upset? all i did was clean for you. i-i thought i would do something nice."

a confused stare stopped his words in the air between them. the letters broke off and dispersed around the room under the pressure of the chilling familiar gaze, making the air thick and stifling around clay's head. his throat closed around his surprise in an anxious gulp. he did something wrong.

"this isn't about the cleaning, man. i-it isn't even the fact that you're being so nice to me. y-you're so different than the person i met when we were kids. it's like i don't know you anymore."

his voice broke during the last sentence. it didn't sound like a man on the verge of tears, but rather a hope crushed by prolonged frustration. after a delicate pause, he continued.

"you're never home now, and when you are, you're sleeping all the time. you're smoking like, a pack a day or something. you blew up at me on saturday night just because i asked you to stop smoking and go to sleep at a normal time. you're always so angry and irritated, i can't even talk to you about shit like football anymore, like we used to."

nick's tone was solemn, disappointed. it gave dream goosebumps down his forearms as his words registered and settled in his ears. he was speechless, unsure of what he was supposed to do with the information.

"look, i love you, man. and it means a lot that you're being so nice right now, cleaning and shit before i get home. but i'm scared of you right now."

"w-what?"

"you're so unpredictable, man. i never know what you're gonna do when i'm around you. are you gonna be mad, like on saturday? are you gonna be weirdly nice to me, like right now? are you gonna ignore me like you usually do every other day? are you just gonna get up and leave for hours in the middle of the night like you have been recently? do you even know this is what you're doing? i mean, you don't tell me anything anymore. i just have to guess you're on a nicotine-induced high or something and hope you're in one piece when you decide to come home. that's fucking scary to have to keep thinking about whenever you're gone. as weird as you've been this past year... i don't wanna lose you, man. you're still my friend."

nick's voice rang through the room, his tone bouncing off the walls into clay's head. a silence permeated between them. clay couldn't hear his friend's shaky breaths through the ringing in his ears from his speech. he was staring into his hands, his palms in his lap facing up towards the ceiling. he noticed that his fingers were twitching and curling in on themselves with every breath he took.

the air was dead and cold. it went into clay's lungs thickly and left him with less air than when he tried breathing in in the first place. he didn't know what to say, what to do.

he didn't know what to do because he knew sapnap was right.

nick and clay worked so well together for so many years because clay _wasn't_ all over the place. nick found comfort in the patterns in which clay did things; the way he laughed, the way he used his right hand to tug on the collar of his shirt when he was uncomfortable, the way he ran his fingers through his light-colored hair. they would have the same conversations about the same things: football, math class, girls they liked.

they played the same sports, took the same classes. but nick refused to smoke. he hated the smell, the smoke gave him a migraine. he didn't know why clay decided to start, but he always held onto a sliver of hope that his friend would return to the past, where they did the same things. where he was predictable.

"nick, i-i'm sorry." clay's voice was soft in comparison, and sapnap saw a flicker of the clay he used to know.

"a-and i'm sorry if i don't make sense when i respond. you just... you put a lot of things into perspective for me."

he was quiet again for a second, his hand reaching for his back pocket. _george_.

"i'm sorry for just disappearing. i-i met someone. on saturday. he works at the store down the street. we've been talking for a few days now." he paused again, bringing his hand back to his lap. he opened and closed his fist experimentally, watching the curve of his fingers and remembering when he used those fingers to grab the green boxes off the counter in front of george.

another bout of silence. sapnap was watching him carefully, unsure of how to handle dream's rushed confession.

a strong feeling pulsed through dream's body unexpectedly. he flinched at it. it felt like a chill, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason for it. when it passed through his chest, his heart rose, lodging itself in his throat. he had to tell him.

"n-nick," he murmured, "i need to... tell you something. i need to tell you before i overthink it."

"yeah?"

"me and that guy i met-- i--" he felt tears forming on his lower lash-line. _why was he crying?_

"i think i like him. like..." _what was he trying to say?_ "i think i'm... nick, he's so beautiful. he's so sweet. his voice is like music to me when he talks to me. he laughs at my jokes like i'm the funniest motherfucker he's ever met."

tears stained his cheeks. they clung to his bottom eyelashes and made his eyes feel heavy. he hated crying. he hadn't done it in so long.

"when i'm gone, i'm talking to him on his shifts. he's colorblind. he asks me to describe the colors of the candy packages to him. he calls me dream, i didn't tell him my real name. we text all the time."

"why are you telling me all this?"

"nick, i love him. i-i don't know if i'm gay or something... i don't know. i just feel something different for him. i'm scared. i've never felt this way about anyone before. like i don't know what to do when i'm not with him."

it was sapnap's turn to be taken aback. dream was sitting in front of him, crying. telling him about this man he met that he's in love with or something. sapnap had never seen dream cry. even when they were younger, when dream fell off the slide in fifth grade and broke his arm. when he went through his first breakup. when dream's family dog died. to be honest, he didn't know if dream even really knew what crying was at all.

"clay, dude. you know i love you. i would never fuck up what we have. thank you for telling me about you and that guy. i... i don't know what to say, except i'm always here for you, man. i'm glad he's making you act different."

clay smiled weakly and nodded, using his sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"i love you too, nick. can i ask you to do something for me?"

"yeah, what is it?"

"i need you to hide all of my cigarettes while i'm sleeping tonight. i-i don't know what i want from life, but... i just don't wanna die without getting a chance to live out my destiny first. i have a stash of loose roaches in the bathroom, in the bottom drawer. i keep my boxes on my dresser in my room. just please, please do this for me. i... i don't want to keep living like this."

"are you sure?"

"positive."


	5. oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh by lil peep, lil tracy

'sorry we couldn't see each other today, wasn't expecting sap to support me like that'

three dots danced and bounced in the corner of the screen before george's message appeared.

'its okay i understand'  
'so he took it well?'

'yeah, i'm outside right now while he's hiding them'  
'i'm nervous george'

dream's hands were shaking in the cool breeze of the night, while a lump in his throat prevented him from swallowing. his eyes scanned the dark road in front of him as he anxiously waited for george's response.

'take deep breaths'  
'remember u can back out if u need to u don't have to do it like this'

dream nodded mostly to himself as he typed a response.

'no i wanna do it like this'  
'its better to just stop cold turkey'  
'i'll update u on how it goes'

he closed his phone, sitting back in the plastic chair he'd smoked in hundreds, probably thousands of times. it felt like a full circle moment, to be sitting in a place that he automatically associated with his addiction as sapnap was getting rid of his stash of cigarettes.

shortly after leaning back in the carved plastic, dream heard the metal gated door swing open behind him. subconsciously, he felt an itch of irritation at the squeak of the old metal, the sound only reminding him of ruined nights and blind anger.

"they're all gone," his friend called softly. dream stood up and moved his own chair back under their awning, nodding and smiling at sapnap. he only hoped he couldn't see the tense anxiety stretching his cheeks taut and making his jaw tighten.

_so it was done._

he kicked off his shoes near the door and headed immediately to his room, shutting the door quietly before locking it behind him and walking to his bed. there was too much to unpack with their conversation after sapnap got off his shift, and for a moment dream wished he had never said anything at all. he was already twitching his fingers, feeling a phantom cigarette between his middle and index joints. he stared curiously at the hand, unsure of how to respond to the feeling. he opted to close his fist and the feeling dissipated instantly, his hand empty and unweighted yet again.

his heartbeat accelerated at the inclination of that feeling. it had only been about two hours since his last cigarette. if he was already feeling ghostly urges, he was terrified of what he would be feeling tomorrow, or by the weekend.

time seemed to move so slowly all of a sudden. he looked at his phone and watched the time change every minute. he tried counting the seconds between the number shift, but he kept losing count halfway through. why was it so hard for him to focus? the number changed again, and he squinted his eyes at the screen, counting carefully aloud.

"one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand..." his tone was a controlled, hushed whisper. he felt like he'd never focused so intensely before. the blood pumping through his body seemed to be counting along with him, each whoosh timed perfectly with his passage of time.

nine one thousand, ten one thousand, eleven one thousand," he continued. his eyesight became fuzzy unexpectedly after that, and he blinked a few times in an attempt to regain his vision. when he succeeded, he realized he'd lost count yet again. he'd said the numbers out loud mere seconds before, but his brain was covered in a thick fog. he had a hard time even recounting what he had been doing before he started counting again. or was that the first time?

a buzz notification in his hand shook the haze out of dream's mind quickly. _george_.

'is everything okay? it's been like 10 minutes'

dream's eyes widened and he looked back at the time on his phone, unsure of when exactly he'd been outside.

'yeah sorry. i just feel weird rn'  
'but yeah there's no way to get a smoke now'

'well drink water and lay down and get some sleep'  
'sleep well, lmk if you need anything'

a weak smile found its way onto dream's face. george was always so worrisome.

 _maybe he was right to feel like that_ , dream thought. _george always seemed to be right when it came to stuff like this._

he put his phone down on this pillow, suddenly remembering something he had forgotten to tell sapnap. he stood up slowly, his head spinning for a second before he started walking to his dresser.

he knelt down to the bottom drawer, opening it quietly and reaching to the back of the wooden cupboard to grab something hidden under a ball of a gray shirt. the pads of his fingers ran over the seams stitched into the fabric carefully as his heart raced. _where was it?_

his methodical gestures slowly grew to frenzied grabbing as he couldn't find the small, beat-up box. it was usually tucked into the balled-up shirt. a pit formed in his stomach as he realized the situation he was in.

he always had a small box of loose cigarettes in his bottom drawer, just in case he needed it for something. something like right now. something where he felt his head pounding and his anxiety gripping his windpipe forcefully.

did sapnap really find _them_ , too? dream's mind was covered in another haze, and he couldn't remember if he had ever told the other man about them. it was always possible, but he couldn't think up an explanation as to why he would do something like that.

he fell back onto his floor, his back meeting the bristly carpet in a heavy thud.

"are you okay?" sapnap's concerned voice reached him from across the hall.

"i'm fine," he murmured, letting his eyes focus on a pattern in the rough points on the white ceiling. he didn't care if nick couldn't hear his response.

as his bones settled against the ground, dream's mind returned to his conversation with sapnap about george. his eyes continued to probe the ceiling for some sort of answer as to what came over him in that moment.

his mouth had moved faster than his brain. he said things to nick that he hadn't even fully come to terms with himself.

what had he even said? the mist in clay's mind only seemed to multiply as time passed without a cigarette. he strained his eyes, furrowing his brows as he tried to force the memories from his distorted cerebral cortex. he remembered saying something about how george was beautiful. he faintly recalled the look on nick's face when he looked up at him, eyebrows raised in confused silence. he remembered the way his friend shifted in the recliner he was perched on, his feet stuttering on the clean carpet as he processed the information.

dream sighed in acute discomfort. just moments before, he hadn't been able to count for more than a few moments before forgetting where he began. now, every memory was flooding back into his vision, each one more vivid than the last.

tears sprung into the corners of his eyes and he let out a stifled gasp. he felt like he was being suffocated. the details of every second of their conversation were pushing on his chest, getting stuck in his throat.

the number of wrinkles in nick's work shirt when clay stood in the doorway facing him.

the one cloud infringing on the dimming glow of the sun behind the other man through the open door.

the glint in nick's stare when he said he was concerned for him.

the creak of the floorboards as clay anxiously stretched his left ankle in the silence.

the unexpected crack in nick's voice when he told clay he felt like a stranger, and the ragged breaths that followed in the quiet.

the rush of goosebumps that oozed onto clay's exposed skin at the candid nature of nick's tone, something he'd never heard quite so intensely during their friendship.

the unadulterated fear in clay's voice as he talked about george; how he wasn't gay, or at least he didn't think he was. how he was scared, how george was something different. his chest tightened when he explained that how he felt about george was something he'd only ever heard about, how the feeling in his chest was so painfully unfamiliar to him that he felt as though he wasn't in his own body.

a muffled buzz came from somewhere on dream's bed.

that scared dream, too. george was just always there for him. he was so sweet to him, so genuine and helpful. he always seemed to text him at the right times. it felt like they shared one brain. even with sapnap, dream had never felt that connection with someone before.

a thought crossed his mind that made his stomach lurch in anxious indecision.

he sat up abruptly, a dull ache in his spine tugging at him from laying on the ground for so long. he ignored it and climbed onto his bed. his hand felt around until he found his phone, the feeling of the cool, smooth screen sending shock-waves through dream's arms to his chest.

the notification wasn't from george.

dream opened his text conversation with george. his fingers were trembling as he pulled for all of those vivid memories, pushing them through his hands into the pale text bubble before him.

the first time they had met. when george couldn't tell the difference between the green and yellow packs of cigarettes. when clay showed up to his next midnight shift and they went to get breakfast together. george's emotional confession to him in the passenger seat of his car, when he told him that he was afraid that his sexuality would ruin what they had. the night they shared phone numbers, when george sent him a test message and giggled when it went through on clay's screen. how george's laugh and smile never failed to send sparks down dream's spine, and the rising feeling the taller man felt when he knew that he was the reason george was smiling. he was the reason george laughed loudly, rolling his eyes back and pushing against his seat when dream said something that made him blush.

the message was long. dream didn't know how to end it. he wanted to explain that he would do anything for george, that he was madly in love with a man he'd met on a nicotine-driven rage on a saturday night. he wanted to say 'i love you.'

but he didn't. before he could talk himself off the ledge, he jumped right in. his thumb pressed the send button and he watched it go through. the small text underneath the paragraph read, 'delivered.'

strangely, he felt relieved. he felt like he had just gotten something off his chest. he felt like he could breathe.

his eyes closed on themselves afterwards, the warm feeling of being free pulling him into the thick recesses of slumber.

_it was done._


	6. that's very minimalist of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that's very minimalist of you by suicideboys

clay woke up in pain.

he yawned and turned to face his bedside drawer slowly, daggers shooting up his spine in the process. he wasn't sure why he was hurting, but he desperately wanted to get rid of the sensation.

instinctively, his hand reached onto the top of his dresser for his pack of cigarettes. his hand brushed against a chunk of textured metal and cheap plastic, but no box. he lifted his head up enough for his eyes to peek over the wooden sides. there was nothing on it besides his lighter. there was an imprint in the shape of a small rectangle in the dust that had collected on the glass over-layer.

he sighed and dropped back onto his pillow, wincing at the ache in his back from the movement. he had completely forgotten what happened the day before. to be fair, he had a dream that his conversation with nick had never happened. the dream's transitions were fuzzy, but he recalled feeling very warm all of a sudden. the intensity was like nothing clay had ever experienced.

it wasn't the kind of warm that clung to his skin in florida summers, where thick humidity made his clothes damp and uncomfortable. it wasn't the kind of warm he felt under his blankets, with his hands tucked up underneath his chin as he laid with his eyes open deep into the night. it wasn't even the warm of hot water stinging his skin when he took a shower, where the stream of water would leave red patches wherever it stayed.

it was a warmth clay had felt before, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where and when.

it felt like a creature coming from within his stomach, sprouting its vines into his limbs and intricately wrapping itself around his heart and lungs. he couldn't say he knew what created it, or what fed it.

he reached for his phone, opening it to see message notifications from george.

oh god.

he remembered the way he ended his night. the message he sent to george. what was he thinking?

he was scared of opening the message. every bad scenario flashed through his mind at once, making his chest tense up with fear. god, he needed a smoke.

clay's hands were shaky as he pressed the notification. he felt painfully hungry, and he had a raging headache.

'we should talk in person'

that was all george said. the vague nature of the text only made clay more anxious to talk to him.

'when'

'i don't have a shift today'  
'are you free around 3?'

clay looked at the time.

'yeah i'm free then'  
'where are we meeting'

'my house?'

'i'll be there'

\--

dream's heart was pounding out of his chest as he pulled into george's driveway. was he ready for this conversation? he hadn't even looked back over what he sent to george last night.

he turned off the car and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly opening their conversation to scan through what he had said in his clear lapse of judgement brought on by the need for nicotine in his system.

did he say something stupid? something painful? something painfully stupid? the hands of anxiety twisted his stomach into intricate knots as he glanced over the perfectly even letters that formed his confession on the screen.

'i'm gonna regret this when i wake up, but i need to tell you something. about the conversation i had with sap today.'

dream's eyes continued to read, his left hand idly reaching up to play with the damp hair hanging in his eyes.

'idk how to say it without making it sound weird, but i called you beautiful. i didn't know what i was saying but i got nervous and it just slipped out. sap said he was scared of me. he was scared that i was going out at midnight so often without telling him because i didn't tell him about you. i just don't know what came over me, but i was calling you beautiful. i was saying how i loved you. that i didn't know what i was but all i knew was that you make me feel safe and happy in a way i've never felt before. it sounds so fucking stupid when i type it out but i really really feel something different when we talk. you make me feel like i'm not some worthless piece of shit. and it might just be the withdrawals going to my head but i feel like you feel the same way.'

the message ended there. it was more mundane than he remembered, but perhaps the nerves of the night before had altered his perception of the moment. regardless of his memory of the past, the present was much more pressing.

george's house was directly in front of him with george himself inside, waiting for an explanation. and dream didn't have one.

what was he supposed to say when even _he_ didn't have an excuse for the horribly rushed and impromptu confession?

he got out of the car as his mind searched for any kind of justification for last night, slipping his phone back into his pocket. he heard the comforting click of his doors locking from the inside and he wandered to the front door.

he raised his arm to knock, but the door opened as soon as he made it to the top step. george's eyes were sparkling in the sunlight, just like how they did in the lights of the business at night. his skin looked smooth and soft in the lighting and dream had an intense urge to reach out and touch his cheek to hold his jaw.

"are you gonna come in?" dream had been staring at george's face for what felt like an eternity to both of them. the older man's words stabbed through dream's cloud of thought and he nodded quickly, walking inside. he tried to hide the embarrassment burning into his cheeks in the form of a harsh blush.

the house was small and quaint. light from the backyard filtered in through a glass door that faced a wooden table with a few chairs around. the tile was raised slightly above the carpeted floor as it merged with the kitchen island and spread through the small corner that served as the kitchen. the walls were bare apart from a few dark frames that held pictures of groups of people, and dream automatically assumed they were george's family.

"are you judging me?" george said lightheartedly, giggling softly and pulling dream down to his couch, where he sat next to him, facing him.

the air fell silent between them. dream was trying to make eye contact with george, but the smaller man kept looking away at his hands, his walls, the grass outside; anything but dream's piercing gaze.

"george?"

"yeah?" his eyes were now transfixed in his lap, where his hands were clasped together on his thighs in trepidation. he could see his knuckles glowing white as he tensed subconsciously when dream said his name.

"i'm sorry. i-i don't know what i was thinking last night." dream's words came tumbling out of his mouth and he gestured weakly in an attempt to explain himself.

"i'm sorry if i made anything weird between us. i think it was the addiction, i wasn't... i mean, i don't want to--"

dream wasn't thinking about his words, but he definitely wasn't expecting the lips that were being pressed to his in his momentary silence.

george had lunged forward, kissing dream in an uncharacteristic burst of confidence. the heat from dream's lips and breath sent butterflies into his stomach and down his spine. he was scared of opening his eyes and looking into dream's.

the kiss wasn't long. george pulled away after a few moments and felt his face heat up under dream's silent gaze. his eyes were firmly planted on his hands clasped in his lap.

dream looked down at the timid man, smiling softly. he reached his hand out, cupping george's jaw in his grip. he lifted his head up until their eyes met. george was nervous, had he gone too far?

just as george questioned everything he'd ever done, dream leaned forward and kissed him back.

the intimate connection was still soft and gentle, but it lasted for a few seconds longer than the first. dream was the first to pull away. idle wind in the room moved over dream's dampened lips, triggering a cool shock that felt refreshingly familiar, like a gulp of cold water on a humid florida day.

"so," george whispered, their faces still only inches apart, "what are we now?"

"what?" dream laughed airily and ran his hands through the short hair on the back of george's head. "that's all you have to say?"

it was george's turn to giggle, and his cheeks flushed pink.

"well, your kisses taste like smoke and ash, and your mouth is dry, and your lips are chapped, and i'm glad you're quitting smoking, but i was gonna save that for later."

the way the other man said it almost made dream agree. george's lips tasted different than his own. the moistness of his mouth was something dream hadn't felt in years. the cigarettes dried his mouth out so much that he hardly swallowed, each attempt to feeling like something scraping and dragging down his throat. the man's lips were soft and plush, and dream felt bad kissing him back, scared to ruin george's perfect lips with his chapped and dried ones. it felt like looking at a gorgeous painting; he was afraid to touch it, walk by it, breathe near it, because what if he ruined it?

dream's hand hovered next to george's cheek before the smaller man put his own hand over his, pressing it against his delicate cheek.

"i really am happy you're quitting. this is going to help you so much." his voice was quiet and his temper was genuine. "i'm so excited for you."

dream looked into george's dark eyes and felt himself lose focus. the only thing he felt was the warmth of george's cheek in his palm and the feeling of the older man intertwining their fingers, his small palm pressed against dream's discolored knuckles.

"i'm excited, too."


	7. losing face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> losing face by wilbur soot
> 
> trigger warnings for vomiting and sudden aggression!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might seem a little disjointed and i'm sorry, but it was really hard for me to write a chapter like this in one sitting. it gets pretty heavy, and i put the trigger warnings in the summary just in case.
> 
> i wanted this fic to be a fully realized representation of the struggle of addiction and sobriety, and this chapter serves not only as the climax of the story, but a climax of the main hurdle of sobriety: the withdrawals.
> 
> it may seem over-exaggerated in its wording and character development, but this chapter really has been somewhat of a therapeutic journey for me, hence it taking so long to perfect. it's still not the best it can be, but i wanted something that showed the raw, unfiltered emotion that comes with quitting an addictive substance.
> 
> everything in this story holds significant importance to me, as this is some sort of twisted love letter to the year and a half long struggle that's led me to today. 
> 
> real experience from a real sober person.
> 
> like i said, the chapter can get a bit heavy, so please take a break from reading if it's too much, and stay hydrated. love you all, thank you for reading!
> 
> -adonis

clay drove home with a migraine. the natural light in george's house felt too bright, and his eyes began complaining in a dull ache just behind his sockets. his stomach grumbled in complaint, too, but he couldn't tell if it was in hunger or nausea. the two never usually felt the same, but for some reason, he couldn't tell which it was.

saying he was excited soon turned to bite him in the ass.

he almost crashed the car on the way back home, a sudden urge to vomit overtaking his body, despite there being nothing to throw up. he pulled over suddenly on the highway, almost careening into two different cars as he did. he didn't even bother to park, running out of the car urgently to retch and spit up bile into the foliage that decorated the shoulders of the endless pavement. nothing was coming up because he hadn't eaten anything in the 13 hours he had been awake. his stomach and throat clenched and heaved every few seconds, and the agony of pushing warm stomach acid up out of his throat over and over again made clay feel like passing out. he'd never felt worse in his life, and he craved anything to make the gruesome punishment end.

between gasps for air, he fell to his knees, desperately grabbing the phone from his back pocket and calling sapnap. the ringtone didn't play for longer than a second, and sap was at the other end, asking why he was calling. he never called.

clay's stomach lurched again and he dropped the phone against the gravel he was kneeling on, coughing and spluttering up pools of spit. his head was pounding, blood rushing into his eyes and forehead painfully every time he gagged.

"i need help."

\---

he wasn't quite sure how he got there, but clay opened his eyes and he was on his couch, his body numb and sprawled out weakly. the air was quiet, covering what he could feel of his body with a soothing blanket.

he saw his arms and legs, but he couldn't feel anything through them. he knew he was breathing, but he couldn't feel his chest, either. his cheeks felt prickly, like when your foot falls asleep. he wanted to look around, wanted to call to see if someone was there, but his throat felt raw and sore, and he was scared of what he would sound like if he tried to speak.

as if he could sense what clay was thinking, sapnap emerged from the hallway, a glass of water and a bowl of cheerios in each of his hands. he set them on the table next to his friend, and pressed the back of his hand to clay's forehead.

"you're still really warm." he saw that the sick man was awake, but he still spoke mostly to himself. he took his hand away and helped clay sit up, holding him up manually.

"drink some water."

clay couldn't nod, but he opened his mouth as sap put the cool glass to his lips, pouring cold water into his mouth and down his throat. the feeling was refreshing, but irritating in his throat.

he drank the water slowly, working on keeping it all down. sapnap took the glass away after a moment.

"are you feeling okay?"

he nodded slowly, feeling himself slowly regain control of his body. he still couldn't speak, but knowing he was returning to himself somewhat was comforting. sap stepped away from him, sitting back on the recliner he sat on two days ago, when they had their conversation about clay's sobriety.

this feeling felt so familiar, nick watching over clay. it used to happen a lot when they were kids; the younger was always caring for his friend, despite clay being older than him. he often rushed into things headfirst, never thinking about the consequences. that's what he was doing with his sobriety, but nick wasn't sure how to tell him that it wasn't a good idea. he was determined when it came to things like this, and who was nick to get in the way of clay's determination?

his nickname, sapnap, came from one of those times. ironically, it looked eerily similar to the situation they currently found themselves in.

clay's parents had left him and his younger sister at home to take a vacation when he was around 17. he remembered being so confident that he could handle everything. he'd been begging his parents to let him stay home alone while they went out for ages. he took out the trash every time it was full, he did all of his homework early, and he washed the dishes every night. he even bottle-fed his baby sister, changing her diapers and putting her to bed whenever he could, just to show how trustworthy he could be.

eventually, they agreed and planned a vacation to hawaii. clay had texted nick excitedly, telling him how fun it would be when he had the home all to himself. he didn't know how to do everything that came with living alone, but he'd always been one to be overconfident in his abilities.

he continued being confident as the hours and days passed, taking care of his sister and cleaning the house with frequent mistakes that he simply took in his stride.

on the third night, clay fell ill. he called nick with his hands gripping onto his toilet bowl, his stomach heaving under him as he felt the painful burn of stomach acid fly out of his throat. he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to be quiet and suffer alone, or if he wanted to ramble for as long as he could with someone in a weak attempt to distract his body from the continuous waves of nausea that washed over him.

he decided on the latter, and had called nick in a panic, begging him to come to his house as fast as he could. clay had always hated vomiting, to the point where he developed chronic emetophobia. he would be scared to eat anything, overthinking every minute possibility of where the food had come from, where it had been, who or what it had touched on the way from where it started to his hands.

he thought he had gotten over it, until that night he was home by himself. he stared down blankly into the tile he was kneeling on, every muscle weakening steadily as he continuously emptied his stomach, until there was nothing left. he was having panic attacks in between bouts of sickness, worried about how long the physical agony would last, his mind convincing him that it might not ever stop at all. by the time nick made it to his house, clay was laying on the tile floor of his bathroom, his face feeling prickly and his ribs aching from the constant contracting of his muscles around his stomach.

he remembered the feeling of nick pulling him off the ground and carrying him to his bed, keeping the lights off as he laid his friend on top of his cool sheets. nick kept an eye on clay's still figure as he cleaned what he could of the bathroom, filled a glass of water and put it next to his head, and even soothed clay's sister in the other room.

clay woke up to a soft touch against his forehead. he wanted to flinch and question who was touching him, but his entire body felt too weak to acknowledge his anxiety. when he opened his eyes, he saw sapnap asleep, leaning his back against the bookshelf to clay's left. his arms were folded over his chest and his head was pulled down near his core.

the touch was coming from his baby sister, who somehow had made it onto the bed he was sleeping on. she was brushing her small fingers over his warm cheeks, like she was trying to cool them off herself.

she babbled to herself under her breath until they both heard nick's body shifting on the ground next to them.

"nick?"

the younger boy hummed in response, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his knuckles. he opened his eyes and tried to stand up to grab clay's sister and put her back in her bedroom.

"no it's okay, i've got her."

he nodded and returned to his original position.aning his head back

"how are you feeling? you didn't get a lot of water in your system last night. there's a glass by your head if you need it."

the gentleness in nick's voice and the concern in his tone struck clay with a feeling he'd never felt before that moment. it was one of genuine gratitude, the feeling of being indebted to a friend that treated being kind like it was normalized.

"i'm okay, still pretty lightheaded. and christ, my voice sounds like shit."

the two laughed and nick stayed at clay's side for the rest of the day, checking in on him every once in a while.

"you're such a sap, you know that? always caring about other people, making me feel all loved and shit," clay muttered, leaning his head back against the massive cushions behind him on his couch.

he turned to his friend, and saw that he was sleeping soundly. the positioning didn't look very comfortable, but nick's face looked peaceful and relaxed for the first time since he got to clay's house.

"sapnap," he murmured to himself. he wasn't sure where the nickname had come from in his brain, but the moment it left his lips it felt perfect.

"sapnap," he repeated, his pitch and volume changing.

"sapnap? what the hell does that mean?"

\---

every hour that passed felt agonizingly longer than the one before. dream's migraine would come and go at random, sending painful shocks down his cranium and into every inch of his skin. every once in a while, the sharp ache would grow unbearable, pushing now normalized waves of nausea up his throat until his mouth dried up and he found it hard to breathe.

dream felt like he was dying.

the lights felt too bright, but his eyes were already closed. even when he was the only person in the house, any sounds from around him felt like they were piercing his eardrums, like someone was slamming pots and pans together right next to his head. he usually loved the sound of the birds in the morning, but now, they only annoyed him.

he began zoning out, drifting in the perfectly empty plane of existence that existed when one wasn't fully awake or fully asleep. he felt increasingly fatigued as every minute passed, but was in just enough pain to avoid losing consciousness. he would be right on the edge, dangling his feet over the never-ending chasm of sleep, but something would always pull him by his hair just as he got the courage to jump in, jerking him awake in a torturous cycle.

a doorknob rattled and turned, bringing in sapnap, accompanied by a haunting breeze.

dream winced at the sound, bringing his hands up to his ears. the corduroy fabric that made up the couch felt too rough against his skin and he felt like throwing up at the feeling. another set of goosebumps racked every inch of his skin at the sensation and he wanted to scream.

between the sensory overload and the pain gripping his body, he almost preferred dying over what earthly hell he had put himself in.

"how are you feeling?"

dream shriveled at the booming tone of sap's voice. had he always been this loud?

"oh, sorry," he whispered, trying to minimize the sounds he made as he took off his shoes and walked to his room.

dream's phone buzzed against his side and he whined in acute discomfort at the sensation. he reached for the device, squeezing his eyes shut at the brightness of the screen. the brightness was as low as it could go, but it still burned into his retinas. 

george had texted him, but his eyes couldn't focus on the small letters to read it. sap walked out of his room and dream held the phone out to his friend.

"can you read this? my eyes can't focus."

"yeah sure. he said he wants to visit today. would that be okay with you? y'know, with how you're feeling?"

he passed the phone to sap's hands.

"tell him to come tomorrow, i'll be okay."

\---

george was at dream's door the second the clock turned noon. he always liked being punctual, and he was standing patiently under the stretched canopy over the front door.

sapnap opened the door and smiled at the man.

"nice to meet you. george?"

"yeah, what's your name?"

"call me sap."

george laughed lightly. "what is it with you two and having such strange names?"

"what do you mean?"

"dream, sap? i'm just george."

it was sapnap's turn to laugh, but he didn't respond.

"where is he?"

"in his room. try to be quiet, he's feeling pretty sick. i think it's the withdrawals, they're hitting him hard."

george nodded as sap led him down the hall to the darkened room.

"good luck."

the other man walked away, leaving george to stumble blindly around the tar-black room. he squinted his eyes and he could make out the form of a bed, with someone sleeping on it.

"dream?"

"what?" his voice was gravelly and foreign, and the tone in which he spoke made george wish sap had stayed with him.

"uh, how are you feeling? sap told me th-"

"how does it fucking look like i'm feeling? can you shut the fuck up, please? i have a fucking migraine and your voice is making it worse."

the smaller man was shocked at the unfriendliness. days ago, they were sitting on george's couch, dream's hand cradling george's jaw in a soft embrace.

"w-what?"

"you heard me. get the fuck out. i'm serious. i'm trying to get some goddamn rest."

"you told me i could come visit," he murmured, backing into the doorway.

the mattress shifted against dream's figure as he stood weakly. his limbs looked unhinged, his legs moving in uncoordinated movements over to the doorway george was occupying.

he smelled bitter and acidic, and the mess of his hair on his head cast an ominous shadow over his browbone, hiding his already-dark eyes.

"dream, you're scaring me."

"good. i fucking told you, get the fuck out of here." his voice seemed to get deeper as he came closer to george. "you're so clingy, you know that? this is all your fault. i feel like i'm fucking dying, george. i haven't eaten anything substantial in days. why the fuck would you convince me to do something like this? i fucking hate you, you know that? i can't even fucking walk, all of my joints hurt, all the time. look at me, george."

"i don't want to."

"of course you don't. can't look at your own fucking boyfriend, after you did this to him?" he spat out the word connecting them, and the air around it smelled foul and uncompromising.

"i didn't do this. you chose to go sober. i'm just here to help." he paused. "but i don't know if i want to, when you're acting like this."

"oh, poor baby," dream continued, reaching out feebly in an attempt to push george back, but the other man dodged the touch easily. "leaving me when things get too real? that's fine. i don't fucking need you. go back behind that dirty fucking counter, flirting with every fucking customer you see. i don't give a fuck."

"d-dream, that's not--"

"stop fucking talking! leave, go away, i never wanna fucking see you again. you're a piece of shit." his voice was getting louder, breaking often when it peaked. it hurt him to yell with his raw throat, but he hardly noticed when it blended in with every other ache and pain in his body.

sapnap walked into the hall, grabbing george by his arm and pulling him towards the front door. george couldn't do anything but stare in shock at what had become of dream, confused at the sudden aggression.

as he turned the corner, he saw dream fall against the carpet, calling out in pain. his scream was blood-curdling, excruciatingly haunting as it bounced against the thinly painted walls.

"george, you should go."

"what did i do?"

"i don't know, man, but you really need to go."

george was shoved out of the door, stumbling down the stone steps onto the driveway. he turned back to see sapnap looking at him pitifully.

"i'm sorry."


End file.
